


Days like these

by viperbranium (ViperSeven)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Sorry Not Sorry, Top Steve Rogers, Vibrators, this is literally nothing but explicit sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperSeven/pseuds/viperbranium
Summary: He’s already too far gone for anything remotely resembling coherence, the gasps of ‘more’ and ‘please’ rolling off his lips purely out of need and habit, but when Steve flicks at the little switch at the base… Bucky positively fucking melts. His knees finally give out, and it’s only thanks to Steve’s hand gripping at his hip bone that he doesn’t slide off the table and ends up a disjointed, mewling mess at Steve’s feet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My friends are very pushy so I'm finally posting this old tumblr prompt here (:

Steve always knows what Bucky needs. 

Knows how to take good care of him when he’s having a rough day, cupping his face ever so gently and pressing the softest kiss to his lips. Running long fingers through Bucky’s hair, delicate and soothing and grounding, as he whispers “I’m here, I’ve got you” again and again, until the world around them fades and Bucky exhales softly against his lips and lets his shoulders sag a bit. 

On those days Steve will make love to him painstakingly slow, running hands up and down Bucky’s sides until some of the tension has left him, and then spending a good half an hour worshiping each and every one of his scars before finally grabbing Bucky’s hips and hoisting him up onto the nearest flat surface. 

He’ll reach for the lube—because of course they keep lube _everywhere_ —and lift Bucky’s leg up, nuzzling his nose against the inside of a strong thigh, and will practically shiver in delight when it draws these broken little noises from Bucky, whatever was bothering him long since forgotten, but Steve still won’t speed up. Not even when Bucky’s outright sobbing and arching his back off the table as Steve curls fingers inside of him, grazing over his prostate or twisting digits this way and that, opening him up nice and slow.

And when finally, _finally_ , he lines himself up and slips inside his lover, Bucky’ll scream, unabashed and loud and incoherent, allowing himself to fall apart, because he’s alive, he’s present, and he knows Steve will put the pieces back together. The trust and devotion in his eyes always make Steve’s throat tight, and here, with nails digging into his shoulder and Bucky’s cock smearing precome over their abs, he falls in love all over again.

But lately, lately most days are good ones, and Steve knows that those are Bucky’s favorite. Not only because they _are_ good ones, but also because what Bucky likes on those is something slightly different, and behind the star-spangled façade of upstanding, all-american wholesomeness, Steve’s one kinky motherfucker. And Bucky absolutely _loves it_. 

Bucky is also a little shit, Steve concludes, because he _knows_ how fucking easy it is to get him all riled up, and yet that doesn’t stop him from wandering around their apartment in just a pair of black boxer briefs, his hair still damp from the shower. Steve, in an amazing display of willpower, manages to bite back a moan and keep his hands to himself—they’ve got a party to attend, sadly—, but then Bucky, the asshole, is leaning over the counter, trying to reach God-knows-what, and _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Steve thinks, going back into their room to grab the vibrator. Supersoldier serum or not, he’s only human.

He doesn’t even bother saying anything, just sets the toy and the lube on the table and presses himself up against Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Wha—?” Bucky starts to say, but it turns into a choked sound when Steve sinks teeth into his right shoulder. On days like this one he’s not delicate. He bites down hard, not enough to draw blood but just on the right side of painful, and Bucky’s already moaning and grinding his ass back against him.

“This is what you wanted, right babe?” Steve coos, sliding a hand up Bucky’s chest and teasing a nipple with his thumb.

“S-Steve, we’re gonna be la—Oh _fuck_ , Steve!” because frankly, Steve’s not really in a chatty mood right now, so he pinches that nipple and slips a hand inside Bucky’s briefs, effectively cutting him off.

Bucky’s already hard as a fucking rock— _so fucking responsive_ , Steve thinks, all but groaning in anticipation—, and his knees wobble when Steve gives his cock a tentative stroke.

Stopping the abuse on Bucky’s nipple, he wraps his hand around his neck, coaxes him to turn his head so he can kiss him. The kiss is open-mouthed and bruising, claiming. Makes Bucky whimper and sends a shiver down Steve’s spine, and if there was still a chance for them to make it to the party, now it’s gone. He captures Bucky’s lips again, licks into his mouth, bites… and it’s not enough.

Bucky whines when he lets go of him and takes a step back, but Steve just tugs at the waistband of his briefs, says “take these off”, voice hoarse, and swallows at the sight of Bucky’s body moving to do as he’s been told, skin running smooth over bone and muscle.

It’s not like Bucky particularly puts on a show, but he doesn’t need to. Just him standing naked in front of him makes Steve’s cock fill and twitch, demanding attention, and he wastes no time pushing Bucky down until his chest is flush against the table. Steve drops to his knees—a hand still resting on the small of Bucky’s back, keeping him there, and the other stroking him lazily—and presses his face against the back of his thigh, breathes. God, he’s exquisite. All of him. A fucking work of art. Steve nips him, and Bucky yelps.

“Steve…” he whimpers, needy. Keeps making all these little noises in the back of his throat that drive Steve completely insane, and lets out a loud gasp when Steve pushes his legs apart, leaving him exposed.

Bucky, his body knowing and loving how Steve gets on days like this, making Steve proud, is already trembling with need, and practically collapses when he licks a flat line over his asshole.

As soon as he tastes Bucky he can’t stop. Words cannot even begin to describe how fucking much he loves eating Bucky out, but everything about it just makes Steve go wild. The way his hole flutters with each tiny kitten lick, sinfully hypnotic, Bucky’s wrecked cries, how he can’t even hold himself up and keeps moaning and begging him to stop even as he grinds back against Steve’s face.

Because Bucky, well, Bucky loves it just as much. 

Steve laps at the ring of muscle like his life depends on it, closes lips over it and sucks at the rim, or hums appreciatively when Bucky tries to fuck himself onto his tongue. For a while he just keeps this up, his left hand thumbing softly at Bucky’s slit while he eats him out, until whatever he does, be it trace circles around his asshole or lick wet stripes from his perineum to his tailbone or work his tongue into Bucky, loosening him up, has Bucky hissing through his teeth and sobbing and calling out his name. And Steve’s not about to stop what he’s doing so he can check, but he’s pretty damn sure that by now there are fat tears sliding down Bucky’s face.

At some point, between nibbles and tilts of his head and darts of his tongue, Bucky finally loses all coherence, wet sounds and pants and curses echoing through the room, and that’s when Steve forgoes keeping Bucky pinned to the table so he can dip just the tip of his middle finger inside of him. He keeps sucking bruises on Bucky, eating him out like this, twisting his finger just enough so that he can lick deeper inside of him, along the rim, over every inch of sensitive skin. 

When he finally works his finger all the way inside, the slide is effortless, slickened up as he is, but Bucky still moans loudly, wanton and delirious and setting all of Steve’s nerve endings on fire, his own cock hanging full and heavy between his legs. The second digit wrings a cry and a string of breathy ‘ _ah’s’_ and ‘ _Steve’s’_ and ‘ _fuck’s_ ’ out of him.

With one last lap at Bucky’s hole, he stands, left hand wrapped firmly around the base of Bucky’s dick as he stretches him open, thrusting and curling fingers and brushing against his prostate again and again, unforgiving. Adding a third one makes Bucky’s cock fucking _throb_ in his hand. Steve’s practically seeing white by now.

“ _Fuck_ , Bucky…” Steve hisses through gritted teeth, watching as he clenches around his fingers. “So fucking beautiful, baby. Wish you could see.”

“ _Steve_ …” Bucky breathes. “ _Please._ "

And Steve just _knows_ what it is he’s asking for, flicks his wrist one last time to brush his fingertips over that spot that pulls the sweetest, most desperate, strained cry from Bucky, and then pulls fingers out. He ignores Bucky’s whine at the loss as he grabs the vibrator off the table, and then gives his cock a few last, gentle strokes, before finally taking that hand away, too, so he can coat the toy with lube.

He bends over, pressing himself flush against Bucky’s back, and when Bucky arches his head back to kiss him, Steve meets his lips with fierce passion, almost painfully, licks right into his mouth and bites at his bottom lip and swallows all of Bucky’s moans. 

“You good to go, baby?” Steve asks, voice low and gritty as he sucks and scraps his teeth along his neck, tracing his pulse.

“Mhmm. P-Please, Stevie…”

And it _is_ one of those days. Which means Steve doesn’t just press the rubber head to Bucky’s rim and tease him for a bit, slowly coaxing it into him, but instead pushes it inside in one swift slide, licks his lips as Bucky arches his back and fucking _shrieks_ , loving the strain. 

It’s intoxicating, watching Bucky’s thighs tremble and his back arch each time he pulls almost the entire length of the toy out, and then all the way back inside again. Steve nips at his shoulder, along his sweat-dotted spine, and relishes in the way Bucky’s whole body fucking spasms with each thrust.

He’s already too far gone for anything remotely resembling coherence, the gasps of ‘ _more_ ’ and ‘ _please_ ’ rolling off his lips purely out of need and habit, but when Steve flicks at the little switch at the base… Bucky positively fucking _melts_. His knees finally give out, and it’s only thanks to Steve’s hand gripping at his hip bone that he doesn’t slide off the table and ends up a disjointed, mewling mess at Steve’s feet. 

Bucky can come like this. Steve knows he just needs to keep it up for a little while, and soon enough he’ll be coming undone beneath him. Untouched, just from Steve fucking him with the vibrator and his fingertips leaving bruises on his hip. Or Steve will flip him over—sudden and completely lacking any finesse, knowing what the manhandling does to his Bucky—, and that alone will push Bucky over the edge.

But today they’re in a hurry, no time for him to pull orgasm after orgasm from Bucky the way he likes most. No time to milk him dry until the line between pain and pleasure becomes blurred and Bucky can’t even remember his own name.

He settles for slicking himself up one-handedly as best as he can instead, helps Bucky turn and lie back on the table, and swiftly replaces the toy with his own swollen cock. Lining himself up, he kisses Bucky’s tears away, and then fucking _growls_ when he thrusts home.

Bucky pants his name and is instantly digging nails into his shoulder, forcing him closer, deeper. Fuck, Steve will never be prepared for how damn incredible he feels all wrapped around him. So tight, and _so fucking warm_. Scalding. Steve, riled up as he is, practically comes on the spot, and not for the first time he wishes he could just stay like this forever.

He leans in for a hungry, desperate kiss, and starts to jerk Bucky off, not even bothering to try to pump him in time with his thrusting. Their rhythm is far too hectic for that already: Bucky’s leaking so much that the slide is effortless, and Steve is too fucking close as well. And neither of them care anyway.

Bucky’s eyes roll back into his skull whenever Steve pounds into him, and fuck if he isn’t the most striking thing Steve’s ever seen. Drop-dead gorgeous. Even all worn-out as he is, heavy-lidded and breathless, skin glistening with sweat and precome as he frantically rocks his hips to meet Steve’s. And _his_. Steve is one lucky son of a bitch.

He can’t stop biting, kissing, _feeling_. He’s got Bucky’s taste on his lips and his scent obliterating his senses, and when one particularly well-aimed thrust has Bucky clenching his muscles around him and clawing at the table hard enough to dent it, Steve just sees white.

“Buck, oh _God_ , you—fuck baby, you’re so fucking beautiful…”

“Steve, _Steve please_ , I need—“

“Come for me, baby. Ahh _God_ —Bucky!”

He does at that, his whole body seizing up as his orgasm washes over him in tidal waves of soundless rapture.

Steve watches hypnotized as streaks of white paint Bucky’s chest, feels the muscles tense around him, and that’s enough to make him lose it too. He barely has time to hoist Bucky up and kiss him before he’s filling him up with his own release. 

Bucky swallows up his howl, and because he’s amazing and perfect in every way, helps him ride out his orgasm, even sore and worn-out as he is, and pulls Steve down with him when he falls back onto the table. Steve lets out a breathless chuckle and goes willingly, still standing, but mostly letting his weight rest atop Bucky.

They stay like this for a few minutes, sobering up. Steve knows Bucky doesn’t think he’s heavy—or if he does then he doesn’t mind him crushing him, and Steve loves being in his arms too much to put up a fight—so he allows himself a timeout, peppering lazy kisses along his collarbone and jaw and loving Bucky’s blissful, sated smile. 

Eventually, though, Bucky says: “We’re gonna be late…”

Steve whines at that, making Bucky laugh, but he knows he’s right, so he begrudgingly peels himself off his boyfriend and stands upright. However, when Bucky goes to slide off the table too, he stops him.

“What?” Bucky asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Steve flashes him a toothy grin, and promptly picks him up, bridal style.

Bucky yelps.

“Steve!” he exclaims, indignant. “Party, remember? You’re not really planning to stand President Ellis up, right?”

“Of course not. But it’s no big deal if we arrive a bit late, is it?” Steve tells him, mirth making the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he carries Bucky to their bathroom. 

“You’re too fucking much, you know that. You’re lucky I love you…” but the effect is kinda ruined, because he’s smiling one of his million-dollar smiles as he says it.

“That I am, Buck. That I am.” Yup. Luckiest bastard on the planet.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me about Steve and Bucky on [tumblr](http://viperbranium.tumblr.com) :DDD
> 
> Rebloggable version, in case there's any interest, is [here](http://viperbranium.tumblr.com/post/138184897944/steve-loves-leaning-bucky-over-the-tables-in-their).


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